Spy Games
by lovelyasthesun
Summary: A spy for the Order and new wife to Draco Malfoy, Hermione's role is kept secret from even her best friends. Trying to navigate the Dark Lord's inner circle and keep her life, Hermione is facing a daily struggle, relieved only by her illicit affair.


A/N: So I had the idea for this story a while ago and started to write it, but I didn't like the pacing/beginning. So I'm redoing it. Hope you like it!

His hand grips and pulls at her tangle of long brown curls; he knows she like this. A tiny bit of pain mixed with the pleasure of his mouth at her neck, his other hand at her breast. Involuntarily, a moan escapes her lips and he is egged on by the sound. They are leaned against a dank stone wall, in too much of a hurry to discard of their clothes.

"We shouldn't," he moans into her shoulder, where the sleeve of her dress has moved aside and left it bear to be claimed by his mouth. His voice is heavy in his throat, muffled slightly against her skin.

"No," she agrees, arching her back into him; throwing her head back into the wall. They do the same song and dance each time, as if reading their lines from a script. Deep down, they both know that their tryst is unwise, dangerous at the least. She was married to someone else, not to mention much younger than him.

But each of them needed the other. There was no confusion that they were in "love," for the most certainly were not. She hardly knew him, he her. However, they each needed each other. Perhaps not in a healthy or rational way, but they were necessary to each other's survival.

He offered her an escape from her dismal life. He gave her control and perhaps, if she allowed herself to admit, he kept her clinging to her sanity. In return, she gave him a way of release. With her, he felt alive again. He loved to have her under him, to hear her scream his name. When he was in her presence, he reclaimed his identity.

Hiking her dress up, he enters her suddenly. She bites down on his lip, bucking her hips towards him. Her breathing is humid and heavy in his ears as he moves deeper and deeper inside of her, as if trying to reach an undiscovered part of her.

Her hands grasp at his hair; her nails scratch down his back, leaving faint red lines against the pale skin. When she finally comes, she calls out his name, a low feral moan in her throat. She collapses against him as he finishes, each of them breathing heavy and clinging to each other as if they could hold onto the moment forever.

When they finally break apart, it is with the awkwardness of strangers. They each shuffle to readjust their clothing that had been knocked askew during their hasty lovemaking. He pulls her close to him for one last kiss. They remain embraced for far too long, lost in the primal and hungry kiss. They can feel their hearts beating rapidly against each other, each of them feeling the electrical charge that seems to travel through their bodies whenever they are together.

She pulls away to fix her hear, now a crown of curls flying wildly about her head. Her eyes are fiery and alive, as they only are with him. Once she has adjusted her hair into a twist and smoothed her dress, the fire seems to disappear, replaced with a cold exterior. He feels once again an ache deep inside him, one that resonates whenever he sees her preparing to return, that look of unfeeling and iciness upon her delicate features.

He reaches out for her hand, but she jerks it away. She is the first to apparate away, disappearing in a sound that resonates through the empty shack like a gunshot.

Her husband is waiting for her when she walks into their large and grandiose mansion, having apparated just outside of the grounds. His gaze upon her is cold and it washes over her like ice. "Where have you been, my darling?" He asks, though there is no kindness in his voice.

"Shopping, of course," she lies easily, producing a bag full of new dresses as proof.

Their conversation is interrupted, however, when each of them gasp in pain. They pull back the sleeves of their cloaks, displaying matching Dark Marks upon their forearms. "He requires us," her husband comments.

"I can see that, Draco," she replies coldly.

With that, they walk of off the grounds of their foreboding home, holding hands as they apparate away.

Back at the Shrieking Shack, Sirius Black stares at the space that had once been occupied by the beautiful girl with the dark curls. Before transforming into a dog to make his exit, he allows his fantasies to drift to the next time he will feel the writhing form of Hermione Granger Malfoy beneath him.


End file.
